


When The Earth Stopped Spinning

by Evax3



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Additional Fanart, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dany is an actress, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Happy Ending, Jon Snow is Not a Targaryen, Jon owns a record store, Love at First Sight, N plus A equals J, Notting Hill AU, POV Jon Snow, past Jon/Ygritte (only mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28814376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evax3/pseuds/Evax3
Summary: Nothing in Jon's life has been perfect for a long time. He is poor, unsuccessful, divorced. His mood is bad and he sees no end in sight. Until one day he bumps into Daenerys and all of a sudden his whole world turns upside down.– A Notting Hill Au with slightly more swearing and a bit more smut.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Comments: 61
Kudos: 158





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I watched the movie a few days after Christmas and just thought that this story is really perfect for them! And then sometimes things don't let you go until you write them down...
> 
> The biggest of all thanks to [aliciutza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliciutza/pseuds/aliciutza) for giving me the final push, showing me that I use way too many whitespaces, and making my day with her beautiful comments! ❤️

A gentle breeze brushes his cheek as he makes his way through Winterfell’s still empty streets. Birds are chirping in the treetops, the sun is shining brightly, from an outsider's perspective it is just a perfect summer day. But nothing in Jon's life has been perfect for a long time. So even that, the warm air, the happy chatter of the few people he passes, it can't lift his mood as he unlocks the shopdoor. 

Nothing can, and nothing will, not since the day Ygritte left him. Back then it didn’t bother him much, his meager income and the poorly running store, he had still managed then. What does it matter as long as you come home every night to the woman you love? 

Jon had been blind for the fact that it wasn't going to last. Just till the day he’d come home not to her but some guy he didn’t know, carrying out all her packed suitcases. In retrospect, the signs had been there. Maybe he should have seen it coming, if only he’d looked more closely. 

As the lock clicks, he curses under his breath like so many times before. His way is blocked with several large boxes, forcing him to squeeze through the crack. Of course, the delivery guy hadn't bothered to clear them into storage like Jon had told him. Instead he’d just put them right in the middle of the path. He just hopes nothing is broken. Because that wouldn't be untypical either.

He slaloms around them, throws his jacket over the counter and puts on some music.

Most of his friends think he's out of his mind, that he's still holding on to it. It is unprofitable, it brings him little success, it probably never will. But the store is the only constant in his life that gives him at least a little joy. And somehow he believes he owes it to humanity not to give up. Everything sounds better on vinyl.

So, two hours later, he's still busy sorting and putting away the new records, when the little bell above the door rings. When the first customer of the day enters.

“I’ll be with you in a second.”

The last he unpacked has a nasty scratch on the cover and inside the tissue paper is slightly wrinkled. It is quite unlikely that it will sell like this. But he doesn't sell the good ones either, so it hardly makes a difference. Sighing, he tucks it in between the others.

“Well,” he runs a hand through his dark curls as he gets back to the front, “how can I help you?”

With her head down while studying the back of  _ Abbey Road _ , he doesn't recognize her right away, even if the silver hair looks quite familiar. After all, it really is a special color. It’s not till she lifts her head that his mouth drops open. What probably doesn't make the best impression, but it's too hard to prevent that as her violet eyes glance at him in such a kindly way. Jon just hopes it’s a look she faces more often than not. 

“I–can I … may I help you?”

“No thanks,” she smiles, “I’ll just look around.”

He nods, buries his hands deep in the pockets of his dark jeans but continues to watch her as she goes on, flips through the collections, sometimes taking out a record, then putting them back in. He has to come across like a real creep while standing there. But he still can't believe his eyes, not even after five full minutes, can't help but keep staring. 

It is only when she actually seems to shortlist one, as her hand runs over the cover and then her eyes check the tracklist, that his rigidity loosens. “Oh, that’s not really a great one.”

She raises one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows at him.

“Just in case you are considering buying this, it would be a waste of money.”

With the vinyl still in her hand, she joins him over at the counter. So close he can smell her perfume, a mixture of fruits and flowers, it is discreet but there. It’s actually quite lovely.

“You're not very successful with this, are you?” she grins and Jon feels his heart flutter at the sight.

“There's no point in lying when it's so obvious, is there?”

“No, probably not.” She opens her purse to grab her wallet. 

There his hand reaches for hers before he can think about what an idiot he is. Her look tells him enough, her eyes dart at his fingers then up to his face. He backs away and yet can't ignore the warm shiver that runs through his body the second their skin touched. Maybe she felt it too?

“Please... take it as a gift?” His voice sounds a bit husky, she probably can tell he’s nervous. “It would be impertinent to take your money for this.”

She holds his gaze for a few more heartbeats until the corners of her mouth twitch. “Not very successful, yet somehow charming.”  _ Hits of the 90s _ disappears in her bag and a pair of sunglasses comes out. “Thank you very much…?”

“Oh, um, Jon. Jon Snow.” He offers his hand and she takes it. This time the shiver is even longer and much more intense as he holds her soft hand in his rough one. It is tempting to stroke it with his thumb, but he can refrain. 

“Daenerys,” she smiles again. 

_ I know _ , he wants to say, but leaves it. He has already made enough of an ass of himself. 

She turns to go, but not so without looking over her shoulder one last time. The sunglasses are already perched on her nose. “Have a nice day, Jon Snow.”

It sounds like something he cannot describe, his name coming out of her mouth. He's still standing there, staring at the door, when she's already around the next corner and Sam comes in, two mugs of coffee in his hand. The echo of her smile replays in his head. A hint of her perfume is still in his nose. 

“Hello,” Sam greets him with his usual sing-song, “how was your morning?”

“I–it’s …” Jon can’t say for sure how it was.  _ Special  _ might be the appropriate word.  _ Charming  _ maybe? He decides on, “the guy from the post office didn't put the boxes away… again.” The rest he has to process for himself first.

“Oh.” Sam hands him the coffee. “You want me to put them away?”

“No it's okay.” He takes a sip and hums, Davos really has the best coffee in town. “I'll do them in a minute, almost done anyway.”

With something that looks like a shrug Sam places his bag on the counter and then starts with his usual routine, opens the register and looks through the mail. “Oh, what did you get for Arya now by the way?”

“Hmm?” Without meaning to, Jon's eyes fell back to the spot where Daenerys had been standing just a few minutes ago. “Come again?”

“Her birthday, isn't it tonight?”

It actually is. But he’s forgotten all about it. “Oh, buggering hell.” A glance at his watch shows him that the stores will soon be closing for lunch time. “I still have to buy a present.”

“Well, go on then.” Sam keeps counting the money like it doesn't make a difference. 

Probably it really does not. Jon wonders briefly whether to ask his partner if he can manage on his own. Instead he grabs his key and heads for the door. The store is empty and even if another customer gets lost there, or if possible even two, Sam will make it. 

“It won't take long,” he calls, and steps outside onto the street. 

It's one of those moments when he hears his brother's voice telling him to get a damn wallet like the adult he should be. Jon actually considers it while he tries to count the loose bills in his hand that he just fished out of his pocket. Coffee still in his other hand, he doesn't look in front of him. Doesn't notice what's around him, doesn’t see what is ahead. 

So they collide hard, as he turns the next corner.

“Oh shit! Bugger!” It's a medium disaster and the coffee didn't just land on his shirt. Her white top is soaked with the brown liquid in just a few seconds. “ _ Fuck _ , I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, just…” It’s obvious she fights hard to contain the snap and showing how annoyed she is about all this. Well, it's not like Jon himself likes to be doused with coffee. When she tries to clean up the mess by wiping it away with her hand, she only makes it worse.

“I am  _ really  _ sorry.” Somehow it seems important that she believes him. He doesn't push it further when she stops her movement and looks up at him. Her lips are pursed and the whole posture speaks of telling him to fuck off. 

Maybe he should. But if there’s one thing his father has drilled into him, it is that one must always be a gentleman, even if the lady is not. He gives it a last try. “I… Look, I live across the street, just over there.” He points at the big white house with the blue door, “I have water and soap. You can get cleaned up if you want?”

Daenerys lifts her sunglasses, her violet eyes sparkling. “Where exactly?”

He stretches his arm a bit more. “Just… just over there.”

They both say nothing over their short walk until they reach his house. He is still a bit intimidated by her presence, by the sheer fact of who she is. But after the coffee incident it’s somehow easier to act more normal around her. She's just a human being after all, just like him. Way more richer, way more famous. She's definitely on more magazine covers than he ever was or will be. And she smells better than him too. 

But besides that, she's flesh and bones, just like him. He repeats this thought like a mantra when he opens the door and lets her in. "So, um, bathroom," he points to his right, "and I can get you something fresh to wear if you want?" 

"That'd be great." Without the sunglasses he can see that her gaze softened again, maybe twinkles a bit with amusement as she takes in their surroundings. 

Daenerys looks at the pictures hanging at the wall beside them. From his time in the military with the other guys from the Night's Watch, family photos, him and Robb at the Burning Man two years ago. It's his life in photographs and somehow it feels intimate that she can see them now. She studies them closely till they hear some noises coming from above. 

Then her face lights up even more as Ghost stumbles down the stairs and comes to a stop right at her feet.

"Oh," Jon says, as the dog eyes her with irritation, "he's not that fond of strangers, sorry, I should have mentioned. I can put him in the basement while you…"

It doesn't make sense to continue his speech as Ghost starts to wag his tail excitedly. And he speeds up even more the first second she kneels down to scratch his ears. "You were saying?"

He grins back at her, crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorframe to watch them. "Nothing, never mind." 

Licking her hand to thank her for the scratch Ghost turns around to press his massive backside against her. This way he shows her where to cuddle him next. But he's too big and she's too small, so she loses her balance over his push and slumps back, landing on her bottom. 

"Okay that's enough." Jon shushes him away with a frown, then offers her his hand. "I'm sorry,  _ again _ . I don't know what's gotten into him." 

It's a relief that she's still laughing as he pulls her up. "No problem, I always wanted to have a dog when I was little." 

When she's back on her feet Jon realizes how closer they're standing. Both coffee-stained chests almost touching. The little height he's got on her makes her raise her chin. Her thick eyelashes flutter as she looks up. 

"So," she swallows, "the bathroom?"

He's still holding her hand, and maybe also his breath a bit. He lets it out with a shaky exhale. "It's right over there." 

She walks away and he remains there, frozen in place, looking after her till he remembers that he offered some fresh clothes. 

Which is quite a challenge on its own, he comes to realize, when he opens his wardrobe and takes in his modest collection of black and grey. The choice is between a piece he's worn way too often, whose look will tell, or one he never wears and so smells a bit too much like closet. 

But he can't think too long. After all, she is waiting for him, alone, in his bathroom, where he is only responsible for half the contents of the cupboards. He can't risk her opening the wrong one, so he takes his favorite shirt without thinking twice. 

Clearing his throat, he knocks. Then opens the door just a crack and slides his arm through, along with his clothes. “Just to warn you… it's not very fashionable.”

He feels a pull on the fabric and hears her soft chuckle, “thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

As the door shuts, Jon rests his head against the wood and closes his eyes. Just to give himself a moment of peace, a second to collect himself. Inside he hears a rustling sound, then the water running. 

He’s still standing there when Ghost comes up to him and nudges his leg. It's not entirely clear if he wants his lunch or just to make Jon aware that he'd better make room before she collides face to face with him  _ again _ . Or better before she’s realizing he's been lurking outside the door the whole time. 

Taking care of both matters, he goes to the kitchen and opens a can of dog food. Five minutes later, she joins him.

It’s no surprise that she looks gorgeous in his shirt, of course she does. She would probably still glow like the sun wearing only a trash bag. And it looks, he can't say it any other way, damn  _ sexy _ , the way she wears it. The sleeves rolled up, the hem tucked into the front of her skinny jeans. If it hadn't been his favorite before, it definitely is now.

And  _ fuck _ , he’s staring again, so he reaches for the fridge and averts his eyes in the easiest way. “You want something to drink? Maybe some water?” There he peers back at her. 

“No thanks,” Daenerys shakes her head.

“Tea maybe? Or… Coffee? Probably not.” 

“No,” she says, “probably not.”

Her hand reaches for her bag and Jon knows the trip away from reality is about to end. 

He walks her to the door. In his head, he tries to find the appropriate words for such a goodbye. Then they both take a halt and look at each other in that strange way which makes his skin prickle. Like when he grabbed her hand, the first time, and then the second. It's not just him, is it? There's something in her eyes, if he doesn’t know better he'd say it is fire.

And then she moves forward, gets on her toes and puts her mouth on his.

He keeps his eyes open.

She is kissing him.

_ Kissing  _ him.

Kissing  _ him _ .

It's warm and soft and Jon's mind turns complete blank. Even if he should, he can't do anything, can't respond, can only stand there.

Daenerys Targaryen is standing in his hallway…  _ kissing him? _

It's over far too quickly. Her fingers trail down his cheek as she leans back. She looks up at him with her lips pressed together and her brows raised. 

"I'm sorry." It lacks all honesty as a small smile appears on her lips before she emits another chuckle. "Don't know why I did this."

Daenerys Targaryen is still standing in his hallway just after she kissed him. And what did he do? He acted like a complete fool that’s what. She must think of this as the worst kiss ever. Just because he was too dumbstruck to do anything. 

Jon blinks a few times, like he can be sure that this really just happened. Her gaze is still resting on his face, violet eyes in the most beautiful shade. Gods be fucked, if this really is just a dream, he better make it a good one. 

As his finger touches her jaw he feels the shiver again, electricity shooting through both their bodies. She tilts her head as he moves his touch up to her cheek and then over her ear to the back of her neck. He lets it linger there, looks at her just one more time to make sure this is alright. Then he pulls her closer to brush his lips over hers. 

Just lightly, just teasing. But when he feels her smile against him, he no longer holds back.

It's the kind of kiss that keeps the earth from spinning. Perfect in every way possible. She opens up to him without hesitation while he moves them back till she's pinned between him and the wall. Jon holds her there, moans slightly as she tightens her grip in his curls. When he feels her tongue around his for the first time it's like firecrackers explode in his chest. 

It's so wrong that this feels so right. 

And they don't come up for air. Instead they keep kissing each other till they hear the clatter of keys right outside the door besides their heads.

There he stops. " _ Fuck _ ."

"I think maybe we'll have that coffee first?" Daenerys smirks with her voice a little breathless. 

"No… I mean, yes,” Jon grins, “but this… it’s my roommate… he's… shit, I totally forgot about him."

She can't do more but bite her lip to suppress another laughter, when the door opens.

A man enters, black hair, black leather jacket, wearing sunglasses that cover his eyes. He blows the smoke from his cigarette into the hallway, flicking the stub somewhere on the street before dropping his motorcycle helmet on the floor next to them. Theon doesn't even raise his eyes as he makes his way past them. “You won’t believe what a fucked up day I've had.”

Daenerys and Jon exchange a quick glance, she amused, he shocked, both still pressed close together and up against the wall.

“This stupid wanker sent me home to get my temper under control, can you imagine? What fucking temper?” The door of the fridge opens and closes, followed by the hiss of the beer Theon’s knocking down right after. “And as if that weren't enough…”

He stops mid sentence as he finally spots them. Confused enough to interrupt his torrent of words, he lowers the bottle, which was just on its way to his mouth, and pulls off his sunglasses. 

“Hi,” Daenerys raises one hand. She’s pressing slightly against Jon’s chest with the other to give him a sign that he needs to make some room. Then she steps beside him, and straightens her clothes,  _ his clothes _ , the one Jon has eagerly messed up just a few seconds ago. 

Theon’s eyes flick from her to him, then back at her. He puts one hand over his mouth, then scratches his stubble. “How… why? Are you?” 

“I guess?” she says and approaches him with another step. “Though not quite sure if I understood the question correctly.”

They look at each other for a few more seconds, and Jon is about to jump in and protect her from the next stupid line that leaves Theon's lips. But he spares him. Luckily. In the end, there’s only his typical smug smirk.

“Well… and what are you guys up to?”

* * *

He still can't believe this is actually happening. He can’t believe that she stayed in the first place, all day long. That she accepted Theon's invitation for a coffee, and then another, and then a tea. And when he asked her to come to Arya's birthday party, she said  _ yes _ . And now they just go there? With  _ her? _

But more so, Jon can’t believe these smiles, these warm and beautiful smiles, that they’re addressed at him. Or that her fingers keep stroking his hand as they take the last few steps until they’re standing at his sister's front door. If he concentrates hard enough he can still feel the touch of her lips on his own.

Theon gives them another glance over his shoulder, then rings the bell.

He doesn’t mean to but flinches as he feels her finger between his, as she leans closer. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” It’s pretty obvious he’s lying. His shoulders are stiff, his jaw is clenched. He only hopes that she won’t think it’s about her, but about the pack of wolves they’re about to face. Or rather one wolf in particular. He really loves his sister, he does. But where he usually appreciates Arya's open nature, today it's something that worries him deeply.

But he has no chance to brood over it any longer as Gendry opens the door. “There you are.” 

As they enter he claps Theon’s shoulder and shakes Jon’s hand. Though when he meets Daenerys, his brows narrow. “You know, you look a lot like–”

“Daenerys Targaryen,” she finishes for him and offers her hand. 

Then again, it’s that look on his face. The same one Jon and Theon wore before him and probably countless others. She takes it in stride and doesn't let on until he returns the greeting. With one of her soft smiles and then she leaves them and follows Theon into the living room. 

The second she disappeared, Gendry pulls him aside. “What the fuck mate?”

“Later,” Jon mouths and walks after her. He can't leave her alone with the other two. 

But it is too late. He hears his sister's voice even before he sees her. “Holy fucking shit!”

_ Gods, he's ready to strangle her. _

It’s unfounded though. His sister's face contains the widest smile, which forms into a crooked grin, the second she spots him. “You could have said that  _ she’s _ your date?” And Jon can't ignore the way Arya briefly glances at her chest, because  _ yes _ , the shirt, she's still wearing it. He can only hope she leaves it without comment. 

Fortunately, she does and turns back to Daenerys. “God, we love Revenge of the Dragons 1  _ and  _ 2, you know? The scene where you set the whole city on fire?  _ So  _ epic!”

“Thanks,” Daenerys replies. A soft blush covers her cheeks and Jon can’t tell why it makes his heart flutter, but still it does. “However, everything was actually shot in front of a green screen.”

“Really? Oh that’s a pity. But you did get to do your own stunts, don’t you?”

“I did, not all, but a few.” 

He knows that she’s won her over with that. Within seconds they’re both so engrossed in their conversation that Arya doesn't even seem to notice that he’s forgotten about the gift. 

They sit down at the table, drinks and food are served. While they eat, Gendry and Theon start talking about some sports game. Jon though keeps listening to Arya and Daenerys’ exchange of their preferred fighting techniques, which both learned in their jobs, one as an actress, the other in security. 

It’s alright with him. He enjoys just sitting there and sipping his beer.

This is actually the first time through the whole day that he feels his nerves to calm down. During the afternoon with Theon, he was still too overwhelmed by the situation, with what had happened before. He’d been careful the whole time not to say anything stupid, not to make an idiot of himself  _ again _ . In the end, he almost didn't talk at all. As he does now, but this time for a different reason. Not because he feels he has to, but because he likes it. 

Like this he has the opportunity to study her, to see the little gestures she makes time and again. How she plays with the end of her hair while she’s following Arya's story. Or how she gently bites her lips while thinking. He likes how she uses her whole body when she talks, hands, shoulders, how her whole face moves. 

He’s so caught up in her sight till the point when the door rings again. 

“Gods, I’m so sorry for being this late,” Jon hears his brother’s voice coming from the hallway, “I missed dinner, didn't I?”

“No worries,” Gendry assures him, “we've left you some. And you're just in time for dessert.”

He can see that Robb has hurried. The red cheeks testify to the fact that he probably jogged all the way here from the hospital. His red curls are a disaster, wild in places, flat in others from the scrub cap he wore all day. 

Still a little out of breath, he presses a kiss to Arya's cheek. “Happy belated birthday sweety. I was going to call yesterday, but you know how it is.”

She stops his ramble with a wave of her hand. “All good. Sit down and enjoy the cake.”

Robb smiles at her, then turns to Theon and presses a quick kiss on his lips. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Theon grins back, then peers to the side and flicks his brows in Daenerys’ direction. “We... um, have a special guest, you know.”

“What? Oh.” Always the gentleman Robb offers her his most charming smile as he reaches across the table. It takes not even a look at Jon for him to know who she’s with. Yet they’re all a tad irritated when he simply introduces himself. "I'm Robb, Jon and Arya's brother.”

“Daenerys.”

“Lovely to meet you.” And with that he just sits down and pours himself a glass of wine. “So what did I miss?”

Nobody says anything. All stare at him, waiting for  _ the look _ , the realization. But when, after what feels like a minute, it still doesn't come, Gendry saves the moment and finally brings the cake. 

Robb’s catching up with them while they eat. But Jon's gaze keeps darting over to Daenerys. And even when she listens attentively, their eyes meet more often than not. Only when he hears Theon's yelp does he avert his gaze.

“Ow! What the hell?” He shakes his hand while Arya puts hers back next to her plate. 

“It's my birthday, my cake, and you're definitely not getting the last piece.”

Theon frowns. “First of all, your birthday was yesterday. And I think of all of us here, I deserve it the most.”

Arya looks like she highly doubts his claim. “And why is that, exactly?”

“I had the worst day ever.”

“I don't think that's enough.” She narrows her eyes and then exchanges some looks with her husband. “But to make it fair, you should at least get a chance. Let's say the saddest act gets the last piece?”

Gendry leans back in his chair and crosses his arms behind his head. “Well, seems I'm out then.” He grins at Arya and she smiles back. Jon can't make out exactly what she's saying to him, but he's pretty sure it's, ‘ _ me too’ _ .

Which leaves the four of them. Or rather three. Because Jon has serious doubts that Daenerys has even a shred of sadness in her life.

Theon slumps back in his chair as well and rests one foot on the knee of his opposite leg. “Well, then dear people, let me tell you why I earn the last piece,“ he smirks and stretches out his hand to start counting, “I have a job that I hate and a family that hates me. And in addition to this, the worst boss ever.” He looks briefly at Daenerys. “Which is my dad by the way.”

They all start to snicker. 

“And if that isn't an explanation enough, today the idiot had the audacity to give the promotion I've been working towards  _ for years _ to my beloved sister instead of me. And when I ask him what this fucking shit’s about… he fired me.” 

“He did what?” Robb jumps up in his chair and almost spills his wine in the process.

“It's not a big deal, like I said, I hated the job anyway.” He squeezes his boyfriend's hand, and to everyone's relief Robb's features unwind. 

"Bastard," he spits, “I’m sorry, babe.”

“Nah,” Theon clicks his tongue, “forget about this dumbass. But I think it's enough for the cake.” He’s halfway across the table, when he gets interrupted.

“Wait a second, what about Jon though?” Gendry smirks. 

“Excuse me?”

“Oh come on now! Your business sucks so much, it's almost like you're unemployed as well.”

They all burst out laughing, and even Jon has to grin a little.

“Also, he has no friends except us and Sam, but he doesn't count because he works for him,” Arya adds. "Sounds pretty cake worthy to me too."

“And I think he mopes a bit too much.” When Jon gives his brother a scowl, Robb at least has the decency to bite his lips and try to suppress his grin. Still it's obvious that he's enjoying this a bit too much. 

_ Traitor _ .

“Besides,” Theon starts and Jon expects the worst, “he’s already divorced even though he has just turned thirty.”

Jon kicks him hard against the shin before he can think better of it. He hears Daenerys’ giggles beside him as she reaches for her beer. Jon swallows hard before he dares to look at her again. It's not more than peering. After this exposure, he doesn't feel prepared for anything more. “I think we do well to just give Theon the piece.”

“Wait a second,” she stops him, “what about me?”

All of them raise their eyes. “Sorry?” Jon's eyes find hers immediately, flashing at him with mischief. “You think you deserve it?”

“Well, at least a shot at it?” Daenerys shrugs. 

“Alright,” Gendry gestures for her to continue. “Let's hear it then.”

She looks around and licks her lips in thinking. “So… I’ve been on a diet every day since I was 19, which means I’ve been hungry for almost a decade. And… I broke my foot at work once and was still forced to walk around in heels for two more months, ten hours a day.”

She waits for them to confirm that this is enough. But the only thing she gets for that is some sympathy while the others all pull a face. So she goes on.

“And I was married too, twice actually. My first husband wasn’t very gentle, to put it simple. The second one married me only for the status it gives him.” 

Jon sees her swallow as the expression on her face shifts. Even if his friends don't know it yet, he suddenly realizes that this changed into more than just an attempt to win the last piece of cake.

“I have basically no real home since I was thirteen. My older brother and father died before I was born, my mother only one day after. I was left alone with my second brother, who turned mad in his grief and then got himself killed.”

All eyes are on her, listening to her confession. But more than curiosity, Jon feels the desire to reach for her hand. Tension radiates from her. The way she fiddles with her fingernails makes him think she's talking without thinking.

“I've actually always been on my own. And even if I'm proud of what I've achieved so early in my life, of what I've become, it still feels somehow like I’ve lost my way along the path. That the success I so desired, the freedom I hoped for, now feels like a cage somehow… one that I can no longer get out of.”

Daenerys looks up from her plate and for a brief second her eyes widen as realization kicks in. But it’s shortly replaced by another smile. One she has trained, not one she means. Her eyes are wet, even if he’s sure that she won't shed a tear in front of them. It's even enough that she revealed all this to a complete bunch of strangers. 

And it stirs something inside him. Something that’s been rotting there for a very long time. Because he’s all too familiar with these thoughts. The desire for a sense of belonging, for a home. He thought he’d found it with Ygritte, but that’d been a delusion.

Her gaze finds his and in that moment he wants nothing more than to close his arms around her. To tell her she’s not alone in all this. That even if they don't know each other, he knows how she feels.

It’s Theon then who breaks the spell. “Well... nice try, gorgeous, but you’re not fooling anyone.” Without asking again, he takes the last piece of cake.

And all the others emit a laugh of relief. It’s obviously a good face to his false play. But even if Jon mostly damns him for his lack of proper decorum and empathy, now he's grateful for it too. The brief look he exchanges with Robb shows him the same.

After that, they come to chat some more. The topics get lighter as the wine keeps flowing. But he's only half into it. He keeps catching himself looking at her, hoping she will return his gaze. When she finally does, her gaze is gentle again and her smile honest. He utters a soft sigh, then flicks his eyes at the door. 

It's a question, an offer. She accepts it with a small nod.

Jon raises his voice no second later. “Well, guys, it’s getting late and… I think we better get going.”

They share their goodbyes rather quickly. Nobody blames them for leaving this early. The look on his siblings' faces tells him enough, even if Robb's expression still holds some confusion about her revelation. Like there's a difficult riddle he just can't solve. But he doesn't let on to Daenerys. 

It’s only when they’ve closed the door behind them, a few steps down the street, that he hears his shout. 

“OH YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!”

Daenerys chuckles beside him and Jon grins himself, “I think they told him.”

“Yes probably,” she says.

Her arms are wrapped around her body. The night is warm, so Jon suspects it more as self-protection than as a sign that she’s cold. There is still some tension between them, some words unsaid. But unfortunately he doesn’t know how to get it past his lips. This need to tell her that there’s nothing to be ashamed of. 

“Listen–”

“Please don’t," she interrupts him. “I know it was stupid of me to spoil the mood like this. It… it just burst out of me. I'm really sorry.”

Jon stops. “You’ve done nothing wrong. It's just a stupid game.” She avoids his gaze. “Hey?”

Her eyes look back at him and there in the dim light of the street lamp she looks much younger than she actually is. 

“Can we still pretend it didn't happen?” Her voice is softer than he ever heard it before. “Like I'm just a woman and you're just a man, and this is just a beautiful night, which it really was by the way.”

He takes one step closer till they almost touch. “Yeah, of course,” he breathes and sees some of the tension leaving her shoulders. And somehow he feels brave, encouraged by this, so he offers her his hand as they walk on. 

She takes it and intertwines her fingers with his. 

It feels much more intimate than the heated kisses they shared in his hallway. This time he dares to stroke the back of her hand with his thumb. He receives a sigh in return so he does it again. 

“What would you do if this was a proper date,” she asks, just before they head into the park. 

_ What do you want me to do? _ he tends to reply. Because it’s the only thing he would. 

Still he waits with his answer. Just keeps on walking. The sounds of the road fade and are replaced by the rustling of the trees the deeper they enter Winterfell’s godswood. It’s a calmness he has always enjoyed. And with the soft grass under their feet and the light of the moon caught in her hair, Jon knows then what to do. It doesn't cost him one more thought.

He pushes her hair behind her ear as he captures her lips. Tender but confident in what he does. Her hands are splayed across his chest while his other is placed on her lower back. In some ways he wants to steady her, to hold her. That here in his arms she doesn’t have to be strong. 

Maybe she gets that as she smiles against him. And the more intense it gets the more he’s stunned by how she makes him feel. How easy it is to fall for her. With countless stars twinkling above them, and her warm body so close to his own, it’s not hard for him to forget everything else. 

Even when she slowly pulls away, the feeling persists. It lasts, as does his grin as she drags him on. 

A few steps ahead they come to a place he loved as a child, yet rarely visited. The leaves of the heart tree are bright red, despite the little light. Soon they will cover the ground, but now they shine above them, rich and alive. Right below there is a single bench and Daenerys lets go of his hand to read the inscription. 

_ For Ned, who always loved this place, from Cate, who always sat beside him. _

“That’s my dad,” Jon tells her as she settles down and he takes the place where his father used to sit. 

“Your parents made this?”

“No.” He can’t help for his voice to change. “Just… just my dad. And his wife.”

She doesn't say anything back, just looks at him instead. Her fingers graze his shoulder as she turns to him and waits for him to continue. After everything she's shared today, it's probably his time now to reveal a little more of himself.

“So… the things you talked about, I know how they feel, not knowing where you belong, where your place is in the world,” he lets his arms rest on his knees and looks at her over his shoulder. “My mother died too when I was born. And even though I  _ have  _ a family, siblings that I love, that love me, I've always been kind of the outsider. The child who was not quite part of the pack.”

Her hand finds its way back into his and he takes it glady. 

“My father was never a very emotional man, but I know he loved me too. He couldn't show it the way he might have wanted to. After all, I was the proof of the one mistake he would regret all his life and for his wife the evidence of his betrayal.” 

He swallows around the knot in his throat. “As a kid, I didn't understand why she hated me so much. Now I get it somehow. But still sometimes I wonder, whether my life would have been different if I’d been her child too.”

Jon remembers well that moment at the funeral. When the coffin was lowered into the ground and all his brothers and sisters stood around it, mourning, side by side. All except him. He knew that Catelyn didn't want him there, so he had stayed behind, quietly saying goodbye, alone. 

It’s been the time when it had gone to pieces with Ygritte as well. In her own way she’d tried to be there for him, to give him comfort. But she was never good at understanding him, probably still not. Her way was to move on, to look forward, no matter what. And Jon shared that attitude, kind of. But he can't help to notice more often that like this, some things fall by the wayside.

He kept staring into the distance while pouring his heart out to Daenerys, so he shrugs a bit as she presses her finger against his chin and moves his head. “Even if it hurt her, it wasn't your fault.”

“Yeah, I know that,” he sighs and leans back to look at her properly. “Still, sometimes it felt like it did.”

She strokes his knuckles and squeezes his hand. “You're not alone in this, Jon.”

He squeezes back. “Neither are you… Dany.”

Her mouth widens, although her eyes narrow. “ _ Dany _ ,” she repeats after him, “I can't remember who was the last person to call me that.”

“Is it alright?”

“It’s more than that.” 

Now it’s her turn again to reach for his mouth. To kiss him despite telling him some more words of comfort. It remains slow and tender, but keeps a promise. One he takes all to gladly, one he wants to return. One that makes his breath hitch when they separate a short time later. 

They pause with their lips still barely touching. He feels her breath on his skin when she speaks. “Take me home, Jon Snow.” 

And so he does. 

He’s still holding her hand when they enter his house. Even when they step through the door of his room. In fear of breaking the spell he doesn’t turn the lights on, so her soft features are only illuminated by the dim light of the moon coming through the window. 

Dany walks to his bed, but Jon remains by the door, his back pressed against the wood, his fingers clutching the handle. His nerves are on end, his heart in his mouth as she turns around slowly and reaches for the first button of his shirt. 

Gods, he feels like a green schoolboy ready to lose his virginity. He can’t do anything but watch, staring at her as she reveals more and more of her sun-kissed skin. 

“Do you want to keep standing there?”

_ I don't know if I have a choice. _

“Not that I mind if you watch me,” she smirks.

Somehow her humor loosens him so with a shake of his head and a small grin he approaches her. 

He doesn't do it anywhere near as elegantly as she does, he’s far too impatient for that. With just a quick motion, he reaches behind him and pulls the sweater, along with the t-shirt, over his head and throws it aside. 

Like this she can see his chest moving, his breath already comes in sharp bursts without anything having happened yet. 

As the fabric falls from her shoulders, Jon’s gaze falls down from her eyes to the thin black lace covering her breasts. It leaves little to the imagination and blood fills his cock at the sight. She really is gorgeous. His fingertip twitches with the urge to finally touch her.

“Are you sure?” He looks back up just to see her smile flatter. 

“If you don't want to?” she starts, but he didn't ask the question because of himself. Because he wants, gods how much he wants her. He’s already this stirred up just from thinking about it, that he’s in danger of coming right the second she puts her hands on him. 

With a deep breath he tries to calm himself, “I do… want to.”

“Good,” Dany smiles and closes the last distance between them. Her hands reach for his belt and she pulls it open. “Because I want it too.”

His restraint snaps and he lunges forward. Her lips tremble against his mouth as he kisses her, and it’s such a relief to see she’s just as excited as he is. He helps her get him out of his jeans and every touch of her sends another shock of arousal down his spine. 

Not once does he leave her lips as they stumble to the bed. He groans deep into her mouth as he feels her slick against his thigh once the last piece of clothing has hit the floor. 

She grabs his wrist and guides him to her breasts just before her own hand moves down between their bodies. Jon nearly comes as she squeezes him. A strangled noise escapes his mouth and he leans back, his forehead resting against hers. “ _ Shit _ .”

He is taken over by his hunger, his desire. Every sound she makes urges him on even more. Her soft moan as he pinches her nipple, then a growl as he traces it with his teeth. His cock throbs hard in her palm as he finds her clit, rubs it for the first time and she cries out.

Lips brush his ear and she shudders against him the more he increases the pressure. This close together, he feels every tremor that runs through her, just like she feels the violent pounding of his heart. He’s drowning in his lust as she tightens her grip around him.  _ Fuck _ , he’s already so close.

He’s torn between his need to let go and the desire for this to never end. Groans again as her soft voice purrs into his ears, “ _ Jon _ .” Fuck, she sounds as wrecked as he feels. “ _ Please _ …  _ more _ .”

As he finds her gaze her pupils are blown wide and her eyes are hazy. A thin sheen of sweat covers her flushed skin, the way she’s biting her lip it will probably leave an imprint. He knows she does it to muffle her cries, but she fails. Their loud moans fill the room as they both move their hands even faster. Their eyes locked all the time.

“You… you want to come like this?” he stutters.

Apparently unable to form any more words, she just shakes her head slightly. And he finally removes his hand and reaches for the bedside table. 

But he's shaking too much. Sitting on his heels, he tries to put the condom on, but he can't even get it out of the package. “Fuck!”

Her hands close around his wrist to make him stop, so he does. The amusement is written all over her face, and that's when Jon himself lets out a small chuckle. He runs his hand through his damp curls and holds out the package to her. Maybe it's good for them to relieve some tension like this. Otherwise, he surely won't last very long.

Dany rips it open with her teeth and rolls it over him before she straddles his hips. He can hardly breathe as she takes his cock in hand and sinks down onto it.  _ So slow.  _ The grip on her waist is probably a bit too strong, but he can't help it, he has to hold on to something. It's been so long since the last time he felt a woman like this. He has to steady himself, closes his eyes and just keeps breathing.

She’s so warm and so tight around him and her moans turn even more desperate with every inch of him that she encloses. Her arousal coats their thighs and he can’t believe that she really wants him that much, that he’s responsible for her pleasure.

As soon as he’s fitted inside her, his balls resting against the cleft of her ass, his eyes snap open. Because for nothing in this world can he miss this. Even if it’s likely to be a short-lived joy. 

Her lips are parted and her breath hitches as he pulls her close, slipping his tongue inside. She clutches his shoulders and he hugs her so she wraps her arms around his neck. Even the slightest movement lets a trail of fire run down his arms, heat building, consuming his sense. 

Slowly she begins to ride him. One of his rough hands on her lower back, the other buried in her silver hair. His fingers are covered with her sweat, both bodies are damp and musky. 

The wet sounds increase in volume by the practiced snaps of her hips, as her thrusts turn harder and faster. She’s clenching around him, pulling him even deeper. And Jon tries to calm himself as he lifts his hips to meet her halfway. Still, he feels it, as his orgasm builds at rapid speed. 

“I’m going to come,” he breaths against her lips. “Fuck, Dany I’m so close.”

“Me too… me too.  _ Oh god _ , just a bit more.”

He doesn't know if he can.

His thumb moves between their bodies to find her clit and he circles it, flickes against her till she screams in his arms. He's sure, should Robb and Theon be home, they're definitely not sleeping anymore. But he doesn't give a damn. He cares for nothing but the feeling of her coming undone in his arms. 

The pulsing in his shaft gets heavier with every second, his balls draw tight, he can no longer hold it back, “Dany fuck I–”

Her back arches violently and her head slumps forward against his shoulder as she comes. While one contraction after another runs through her body. The sound she makes is more of a whimper than a moan, but whatever it is, it's enough. The second he knows she’s over the edge, his vision fades to black.

He’s jerking inside her as he spills. His chin rests on her head, his eyes are squeezed shut as he shudders in his release. 

And time slows as they hold on to each other, as they come down from their high. 

Only when he feels Dany's giggle against his chest does Jon lean back a bit. She looks up at him, her cheeks pink, her lips swollen. The smile on her mouth is the widest he’s ever seen. The way she beams at him makes him grin himself.

He strokes her hair away from her forehead and places a gentle kiss on her lips. Then she climbs down and he gets rid of the condom. 

When he turns back at her, he still finds her gaze on him. It's not quite as easy to read anymore. There’s still joy sparkling, but next to it he doesn’t know what she thinks. Exhausted, she probably is, just like him. As he lies down, he assumes the same position as she does, on his side to be able to look at her, one arm tucked under the pillow.

“What are you thinking?” she says and he smiles.

“I was wondering what you were thinking.”

She takes his hand and puts it on her hip. Then she slides closer and wraps one of her legs over his thigh. “I thought that I like it here... with you. That if you want it too…” she hesitates, “that maybe I could stay a little longer?”

Jon raises his hand and brings it to her face. His fingers travel to her neck while his thumb strokes her cheek. “Stay forever,” he says before he kisses her once more. 

And at that moment, he really thinks she does.


	2. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is at last, the second part!  
> Even if it gets a little angsty in the middle, rest assured, it has a happy ending.  
> And if you haven't seen the movie _Fight Club_ yet: spoiler alert! Better skip the scene in the bathtub and keep scrolling until they are in the kitchen.  
> And now happy reading! :)

Days feel like hours when he’s with her. And as they turn into weeks and then months, Jon begins to feel that maybe forever truly means _forever_. Because she stays. In the blink of an eye she becomes a part of his life, she becomes _the most important_ part of his life. And she brightens every second of it, with her voice, her touches, her laughter. 

Sometimes he can hardly believe his luck; sometimes cloud nine is not high enough to describe where he finds himself. She’s like the lifebuoy that pulls him out of the water, the sun after the winter, as if he’d been blind and now he got his sight back. 

The moment she told him she loves him, he thought his heart would burst with happiness. On New Year's Eve, standing in the middle of the makeshift dance floor of Arya's apartment, screaming at him over the blaring music. He hadn't trusted his own ears, as she’d yelled those three little words. 

“What!?” His brows were narrowed as he’d stopped moving.

Though she was still smiling, still dancing. “I SAID I LOVE YOU!”

Then the music had stopped and everyone had looked at her. A slight blush had been creeping up her cheeks, but she’d held his gaze as she was waiting for his answer. _‘I love you too’,_ had not been enough. He’d kissed her hard instead as the old year changed into a new one. Both of them grinning like idiots, beaming at each other. It was magic, it was bliss, everything he ever wanted.

So yeah… Jon really can’t believe his luck. 

Just like now as he’s watching her, lying next to him, still fast asleep. With her lips parted and the imprint of the pillow wrinkling her cheek. The silver hair is a tangled mess on her head, and the shirt she wears has a huge red stain on the chest from the pasta they ate in bed last night. And yet she’s still the most beautiful woman he ever laid his eyes on.

It’s breathtaking. And scarry as fuck.

“Stop staring,” she mumbles suddenly but grins. 

He crawls back under the covers and puts an arm around her waist, pulls her close. Pressing his mouth on every piece of bare skin he can reach.

Dany starts to giggle, “Jon! I’m still sleeping.”

“I know,” he smiles, because he can’t help it, “just ignore me.”

“I can’t ignore you when you’re doing _that_.” 

Her complaints turn into one of her soft moans the second he has his lips around her nipple. Sucking, kissing, nipping her flesh under the soft fabric of the shirt she’s still wearing. 

But it’s only some short teasing. It’s not his destination, only a halt in between. He knows where she wants him, feels it, as her hand finds its way between his curls. It’s not like she’s pushing him, but she doesn’t have to. Dany’s bucking her hips against him, rhythmically, instinctively, without thinking, in her current state still half asleep. 

He puts one of her legs over his shoulder after he pulled down her panties, breathing her in. Her smell and taste are as intoxicating as her smile. 

“Jon,” she gasps his name from above. And it stirs the beast inside him, the one that controls his lust and forces him to claim her in every way possible. And it’s another scary thing, this need inside him, but he gets used to it slowly, lives with it, plunges into most of the time. Because she matches him, meets him with the same hunger, whenever their roles are reversed.

He kisses her there, opens his mouth against her, parting her folds with his tongue almost gently, trailing a line from her opening upward. He repeats this motion for several strokes, delving his tongue a bit deeper inside her each time. 

Dany hums in pleasure as she’s growing slick with lust. 

As he leans back, he blows cold air over her skin which makes her sigh. The corner of his lips curl up in response. 

“Stop teasing me,” she groans. 

“As you wish,” he smirks.

Jon slips one finger inside her, still sucking her clit. Her heart is beating so fast, her body trembles beneath his hands with how badly she wants him. And she cries out when one finger becomes two and he crookes them to stroke inside her. 

His cock is pulsing between his legs, so he reaches down with his free hand and starts to stroke himself as he pushes her closer and closer towards her release. 

Seconds later she comes hard around his fingers, and he keeps moving them through her orgasm, fucking her and licking till she’s shaking from overstimulation, till she's pulling at his hair and pushing his head away.

When he climbs back up he finds her flushed and sweaty. Her gaze is unfocused as she looks up at him, like she just came out of a dream. Lazyly she brushes her thumb over his lip, tracing her own arousal. Then she pulls him down, licking inside his mouth, tasting herself and his breath gets caught up in his chest.

She lets herself melt in his arms. As he holds her, as she holds him. They both break the kiss at the same time to take a deep breath of the air trapped in between their warm bodies.

Violet eyes find his grey and Jon's heart skips a beat at the intensity of her gaze. 

Sometimes they just fuck, give in to this animlistic need and chase after their orgasms, almost fighting their heart out in the process. They tear on flesh, bite and scratch, and laugh in between when their fervor overwhelms them. 

But it's moments like this, the quiet ones, when she’s watching him like this, as if she’s looking right into his soul. These moments are the scary ones. Because Jon sees his own feelings reflected in her eyes, so much hope, so much affection. And it always shows him how much they have to lose. 

“What is it?” Dany asks as she strokes back one of his curls. 

How can he possibly say it without sounding like an utter fool? “Sometimes I’m terrified by how much I want you.”

She holds his gaze with that fire in her eyes that almost burns him. They both feel the heat between them, tracing every pore of their naked skin. The silence is stretched until the air ripples with pent up desire. 

He can’t take it anymore. With one fluid motion, he pushes himself inside her, his own eyes never leaving her face. Not once; not when he’s fully seated, not when she wraps her legs around his hips, not when he pulls almost all the way out and thrust back in and they both groan low and desperate. 

Their hearts are pounding against one another, their bodies melting together as if they are one. 

He snaps his hips and watches her throat bob in response. Her nails dig into his shoulder, then she moans and rolls her hips impatiently. So he increases his pace, while he tries to keep his grunts silent as he fucks her. But he fails.

He clenches his jaw and growls as he feels his ball tighten. His breathing quickens; Jon knows she can feel his ribs move beneath her hands. Alight with nerves, she’s arching her back to take him deeper, harder. 

It’s all too much. The way she’s flexing her muscles around him, milking him. Her tight heat, her look so fucking intense. He’s losing control so he slams their mouths together and thrusts mercilessly while she writhes beneath him.

“Come for me,” she rasps against his lips.

And so he does. 

“Gods fuck!” Jon cries out. 

He collapses, still pulsing inside her. His body covers hers like a human blanket as more waves of his climax run through him. She holds him, stroking his hair as he rests his head between her breasts. 

They both say nothing for a while. Just lying there, tangled with each other and the sheet. As their breathing calms, the sun slowly rises, but even that is no reason for either of them to move. 

“If this is still a dream,” he whispers, “please don’t wake me.”

“I won't,” Dany promises and seals it with another kiss against his forehead. 

After that they fall asleep again. And Jon dreams of the house with the red door and the lemon tree she told him about. Where their children could grow up, where she could write and he could do music. Where they could live in peace and nobody would bother them. Maybe one day they’ll have this. 

At this moment it feels like everything is possible. 

Of course he knows it's not a normal life they live. Her secret is always a constant presence. When she's helping him with the shop she remains in the back or in his office, reorganizing stuff but hidden from the customers. Sometimes they go out to dinner, but only because Davos saves them a booth in an empty corner where nobody can see them. It's not perfect, but it’s more than enough. Being with Daenerys makes every compromise ten times easier. 

At some point her agent sends her a new script and he reads it with her, helps her to learn her lines. And he loves to do that, because it makes him a part of her life too. It's not like she's having another world beside his, but she tries to bring him into hers, like he belongs there as much as she belongs in his. 

She lets her head rest against his chest, eyes closed, brows narrowed in concentration, as she listens to Jon's voice. 

“The Monkeys release Marla. She moves next to Jack, now becoming more shocked by his bloody state. Jack grabs her arm. She digs through her purse and pulls out a wad of tissue paper. She puts them into his mouth to plug the hole.”

It's not the first time it happens. She is too caught up in his reading that she misses her cue. Jon grins and bumps her knee with his so that the bath water ripples small waves. 

Dany flinches. “Oh crap…” She clears her throat, “I mean… _what the fuck is going on?!_ ”

Jon has the script in one hand and is drawing little patterns over her arm with the other as he continues. “Jack cracks his weird, little smile; his eyes are wide and half-insane-looking. He winks at Marla and squeezes her hand.” He reaches for Dany’s to emphasize his words.

_“Tyler's dead,”_ he says in an assumed voice, which makes her snicker, before he goes on with the narration. “The Space Monkeys all grab their duffel bags and file out of the room, saluting Jack as they go. Now, Jack and Marla are completely alone. He struggles to get to his feet. She helps him. They look out the window.”

Jon turns the pages, or tries to. Not exactly easy with only one hand. But there is no question for him to use his other, now that their fingers are intertwined. 

“Massive explosion of a building a quarter of a mile away. Its destruction is completely visible. The glass walls rattle loudly from the shock wave. They both stare out the window. _”_ He makes a pause and Dany looks up to see him reading the last spoken lines. 

_“You met me at a very strange time in my life.”_

She raises a brow as if to confirm how true his words are after all. And that they actually contain a deeper meaning for the both of them. So he leans down to kiss her, with an attempt to touch her lips just briefly. It's just one more paragraph, at least they should finish that before they move on to something else. But as she pulls him closer he lets the papers sink to the floor and himself deeper into the bathtub. Maybe he’s just too weak to resist her. Not when she kisses him like that. 

But then _she’s_ the one putting a hand on his chest to stop him. "So... what do you think?"

If he’s honest, Jon thinks of many other things right now and none of them have anything to do with the movie. Though he knows that’s not what she wants to hear. 

"It's good," he tells her, because it really is. Maybe a bit too bold for his taste. "I read the book, so I knew the plot. But still... it's a good script."

She grins. "Glad you like it. You may accompany me to the premiere then." 

He should be pleased at this, but his joy is chastened. "When do you start shooting?" And he can’t ignore the way his voice lacks some ease. It’s stupid maybe, but the prospect of her going back to work unsettles him more than he likes to show. 

"In two weeks." Her head is nuzzled against his chest and she places a soft kiss above his heart, which makes some of the water leap out of the tub, landing with a splash on the blue tiles of their bathroom. "You can come and visit me? Have you ever been to a film set?"

"No," he says, "but I'm looking forward to it." 

When she shifts, so that she's able to put their lips together once more, Jon tightens his grip around her. A bit exaggerated, it’s not like she’s really _leaving_ him, but somehow he wants to make sure she stays wrapped in his arms for as long as possible.

"I love you Dany." He doesn't say it often enough. 

"And I love you," she smiles as she starts to stroke up his thigh. 

It helps to relax. It's the preferred way for both of them to show affection, with gestures instead of words. And he's growing hard between her legs in only a few seconds. Their bodies melting beneath the hot water as Jon feels the tension leave his shoulders and mind, the more demanding her touch becomes. 

Then someone's banging on the door, putting a sudden stop to it. "Snow, if you won't hurry up, I'll go and piss in your bloody boots!"

"Fuck off!" Jon tells him and feels Dany's giggles on his damp skin. 

"You two have been in there for almost three hours!" Theon complains, "just have sex in your damn bedroom." 

Jon rolls his eyes as she moves back. 

"Only five more minutes!" Dany yells. And she really seems to mean it, as she gets up, out of the water and reaches for a towel. 

"Just _five?_ " Jon lifts his brows.

"To get dry!" she laughs and slaps his own towel right in his face. "Now get out there, your boots are way too pretty to die like this." 

He obeys, albeit reluctantly. And not without stealing a kiss or two, so that five minutes turn into ten in the end. Theon mutters his complaints as he moves past them, when they finally vacate the room. But Jon’s only too happy to ignore it. 

Back in their own room, a glance at the clock shows him that time has really passed faster than planned. It's almost lunchtime and they haven't had breakfast yet. As if to underline this, Dany's stomach makes a deep rumbling sound right that moment. 

“Okay, maybe we eat something first,” he laughs and drops the towel to get dressed. 

Only as much as appropriate though. He slips into some sweatpants while Daenerys wears nothing more than a T-shirt and underwear as they make their way down to the kitchen. 

Where it smells amazing, so good it makes his mouth water. Really, if the Starks know one damn thing, then it's how to make breakfast. There are eggs and sausages sizzling in a pan and next to Robb on the counter is a large pile of toast. Dany hops onto it and grabs a piece. But when Jon also reaches for the food, his brother flicks the spatula onto the back of his hand. 

“ _Please Jonathan_ , where are your manners?”

He snorts, because it’s not even his real name. Then peers at Dany and grins. Well, if she can eat, then so can he. Leaning forward, he bites off half of the piece of toast that is still peeking out of her mouth and quickly jumps to the side the second she wants to push him away. 

She’s not even able to hide her laughter as she scolds him. “Very rude _Jonathan_ , very rude!”

He shrugs it off as he strolls towards the fridge to get something to drink. 

“It’s all the sex,” Robb tells her matter-of-factly. “It’s not good for his ego in the long run.”

“Ha! Say that to your boyfriend.” Jon takes some orange juice and drinks it straight from the box as he turns around and sits down at their dining table. 

The two exchange whispers with each other, too quietly for him to understand it. But it doesn't bother him. In fact, he's happy that they get along so well. He lets them carry on with their analysis of his misbehavior, opens the laptop and checks his emails. 

Only when Theon joins them does he look up again. Or rather, looks past him. And he narrows his eyes at the sight before he slowly gets up. How come he didn’t notice that he’d been missing? He never skips breakfast, no matter what.

But right now Ghost’s sitting in the hallway, his gaze directed at the front door. Not even when Jon steps up to him does he lift his head or stir. His eyes continue to look straight ahead, as if the wood isn't there, or thin enough for him to look right through it. This close, Jon sees his fur is raised on his back. 

“Hey boy, what’s wrong?” He kneels down and strokes his head, but the dog keeps on staring. 

“Jon?” Dany calls from the kitchen, “is everything okay?”

“I don’t know.” He’s never seen him like this. Tension radiates from him, his body as taut as a stretched bowstring. “Come on, buddy, let’s have something to eat.”

His dog's ears twitch even before the bell rings. But as soon as it does, Ghost jumps to his feet and starts barking and growling. 

“Ghost, no!” he shoos him away.

The others join them, Jon just shakes his head. Their faces wear the same confusion as his own. Irritated, they look at each other as his dog makes no effort to quiet down. Not even a bit.

“What's the matter with him?” Theon asks but Jon gives him no answer, instead he reaches for the door himself. 

But he’s not prepared for what he faces. Flashes of light are shooting at him from all directions, glaring, so it’s hard for him to make out any of his surroundings. There are countless people, all calling for him, his name, Dany's name. It's so loud, droning, a jumble of voices. He throws his arm in front of his eyes protectively, as his vision starts to consist entirely of dancing blue dots. 

It takes Dany's shout and a pair of arms pulling him back into the house, before Jon is able to move again. 

Then someone closes the door and he’s back in the hallway. Breathing heavily. As he looks down, he sees his hands shaking. 

“You alright?” Robb looks at him concerned, still holding his shoulders. 

He forces himself to nod. “Yeah… yeah, I’m good, just… where’s Dany?” She’s not with them. 

As the shock wears off and his rigor breaks, he hears her voice again. Coming from above, from their room. And without a glance at the others, he races up the stairs. Taking two at a time. Most likely, she’s even more scared than he is.

He finds her at the window with her phone already in hand. “They’re everywhere, I have no idea how they found me... how the hell am I supposed to stay calm? … That's what you're supposed to tell me… I don’t know!! What the fuck do I do now?” She takes a deep breath. “Yeah… okay, alright. Thanks.” Then she hangs up. 

Jon doesn’t know what to say. He’s still standing in the door watching her, as she turns around. But the look on her face frightens him even more than the mob outside. “Are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” she snaps. 

“Sorry.” He holds up his hands and takes one step closer. “I… shall we call the police?”

“Missandei already did that.” Dany averts her eyes and grasps her jeans off the floor. 

“Good… that’s good.” Jon runs his fingers through his still damp hair, a nervous habit and also because he doesn't know what to do with his hands. “Then let's just go back to breakfast and wait till it's over.”

“Wait till it’s over?!” She looks at him like she wants him to turn to ashes. “You even know what you're saying? This will never be over!”

He clenches his jaw and forces himself not to nag back. She’s tense and scared, she’s allowed to be the irrational one in this. It’s now up to him to keep a level head, he realizes. But then she reaches under their bed and pulls out her suitcase. “Okay, what the hell is that about?”

“What's it look like?” She walks past him and yanks open the closet. Half of her things she takes out, the other she leaves where they are. 

He rubs his hand over his face. “Alright... would you _please_ calm down and talk to me?”

But she’s not listening. Instead, she rushes past him into the bathroom, only to throw a few more items into the suitcase a few seconds later. Then she closes it and hurries down the stairs. Not looking back, not saying a word. All words get stuck in his throat as he watches her helplessly. 

_Is she leaving for real?_

She is about to reach for the handle as he comes to a halt beside her. His grip around her arm might as well leave a bruise, with all the desperation he’s holding her and pulling her back. But he sees no other way to help himself. And she stops.

As she raises her head to look up at him, Jon sees the tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. It's like someone dumped an ice bucket over his head. A cold shiver runs down his spine and he loosens his grip immediately. Taking a deep breath. “Sorry… I’m sorry. Would you just… would you please talk to me? What the fuck is going on?”

But she gives no answer. Just shakes her head, barely noticeable. 

And fear seizes him with its painful claws. “Dany, say something.”

“Saying it makes it only worse,” she swallows. 

“What does that even mean?” He can't understand it, doesn't _want_ to understand it. He doesn’t know why he's forcing her to say it. The suitcase alone should be enough. Still there’s no chance to believe it until he hears it. Probably not even then.

Dany reaches out to brush one of his curls from his face as the first tear rolls down her cheek. "It means goodbye."

"What? No!" 

She was right, saying it actually makes it worse. His heartbeat accelerates, his mind tries frantically to find a solution. What else can he say but that it’s nonsense, that she’s overreacting, that she _must stay?_

“It’s time to wake up, Jon.”

“No.” He shakes his head, tightens his hold again, his voice thick with despair. “No, don’t say that.”

“The dream is over.” Like the very first time, she gets up on her toes and presses her lips to his. It is warm and familiar. And yet all he tastes is salt. 

Then she pushes him away and puts on her sunglasses. 

And she leaves. Leaves him. Just like that.

His eyes remain on the door while his mind tries to process what just happened here. Waiting for someone to come around and break up the prank. His chest is tight, his fists still clenched. Jon blinks and stares and waits, but she doesn’t come back. 

And then out of sheer desperation, he turns around and grabs the next best thing in his range, smashing it hard against the wall. “FUCK!” 

It's a bit ironic that it's the vase she bought, of all things. Because according to her, they needed more flowers in their home. The porcelain shatters with a loud clang as the shards on the floor reflect the state of his heart. 

* * *

It's a blur, everything that happens afterwards, like a black hole has swallowed him and puked him out, leaving him blind and without orientation. It feels like a bad dream, the fact that she doesn't come back, that there is no call, no message. 

Though as days pass with not a single word from her, Jon begins to think that the true nightmare is that they met in the first place. 

And he has no fucking clue how to handle it, how to go on with everything. How to even live without thinking about her every second of the day. It's a toxic mix of grief and anger and longing. And the desire to scream and run away, to close the door and burn just everything. Her, them, all the memories in between.

Robb says he needs to work out more to relieve his tension. Arya and Gendry think he should go hunting and shoot something. Theon suggestes getting well pissed and then fucking his brains out until he can't think at all. Sam says he needs a vacation.

But everything Jon wants is just to make it stop.

It gets better with time, becomes easier to understand, to accept, at least. When spring comes, it slowly stops hurting. His rage becomes less, even if every now and then he catches himself being grateful that Theon is such a prick. He doesn't have to feel guilty when he snaps at him. Even if he yaps at the others almost as often.

They ask him questions for which he has no answers. They are tired and so he is. Because even if it's better, it's not over. It’s so far from over. It's like an itch inside him, in a place he can't reach. A feeling that’s buzzing under his skin and keeps him awake at night.

Sometimes, when he’s alone, when he lets his feelings run wild for just a few seconds, he knows it's called heartbreak for a reason.

The only one who seems to understand him is his dog. A fellow sufferer who probably misses her just as much as he does. For days he’d been waiting at the door, sitting next to him, whimpering. Jon just shook his head until he eventually gave up. And sometimes he snaps at him too, even when that's where he's most sorry.

Still, Ghost is with him when he needs him. He keeps him company when none of the others can bear his bad mood, puts his head on his lap, licks his hand from time to time. It helps a bit, it soothes the itch.

Ghost even watches the stupid reruns of _Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?_ with him when there's nothing better on TV.

As the idiot of the night gets close to missing his chance at winning the million, just because he doesn't know _The Black Album_ is by Metallica, someone clears their throat beside them and they both raise their heads.

“What are you doing?” Robb says, leaning against the doorframe. 

Jon rolls his eyes as the guy asks for a lifeline to phone a friend. Why is he even watching this crap? “Nothing… just hanging around.”

“So... we'll go to the movies now. You’re sure you don't want to come?”

It stings in his chest, just thinking about it. He rubs the spot with the palm of his hand and averts his eyes. Because only the sheer prospect of seeing her face, hearing her voice, even if only on screen, it's been pissing him off for days. The fact that the whole city is plastered with her picture doesn't help matters. The fact that he knows every line of the damn script makes it even worse. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” Jon clicks his tongue and takes a strong sip of his beer.

Fortunately, Robb leaves it at that and doesn't push him any further.

But his luck is short-lived. As they switch to commercials, he knows it’s that stupid trailer from only seeing the first frame. Like she’s haunting him. As if she simply does not want him to forget her. Jon pushes the buttons on the remote with more force than necessary and goes to bed though it's not even nine o'clock yet.

When he wakes up, he's in a sour mood from the very first second.

And it's not getting better, but worse with each passing minute. He has no more clean laundry, so he’s left with only this damn shirt, _her shirt_ , that he would rather burn than wear. Then the toothpaste is empty. And when he asks if Theon can take Ghost for a walk, he says no because he’s got a job interview. So Jon has to do it, making him late for his own fucking job.

Around lunchtime, he's so on edge that he barks at a customer for not being able to read properly, munching on a greasy burger while flipping through the records. There's a damn sign on the door that says ‘no food allowed’! Jon’s about to punch him. But Sam intervenes and suggests for him to go back home and take the day off.

“I’m fine… it’s fine.” It’s so obvious that it's not. “I think it's best if we just close for the day.”

He receives a pat on the back for this, a small gesture of support. Sam is still trying the hardest of all to be understanding about his behavior. But Jon’s well aware that he, too, is almost at his limit.

As soon as he's alone, he holes up in his office to deal with some long overdue bills. But after less than five minutes, he puts them aside and drops his head on the desk. Defeated and miserable he remains there till the bell at the door chimes.

And seriously, what the fuck is wrong with this people? Does he need to spell out every single damn thing? His blood starts boiling again as he raises his head. “We’re fucking closed!”

“I know.”

The boiling stops and instead he freezes. Not knowing whether his mind is playing tricks on him, but he stands up anyway and walks to the front of the store slowly. Though he stops as he sees her. Her long hair tied up, wearing a thin red blouse and a shy smile on her lips. “Hi Jon.”

He can't believe his eyes.

His throat goes dry. “Hi.”

“I’m back,” Daenerys says as if that's enough of an explanation, “I wasn't sure if it's okay for me to stop by.”

Jon blinks at her, while he tries to process her words, not knowing what this even means, _‘I’m back’?_ Back in town? Back at his shop? Back _with him?_ “Since when?”

“Two days ago.” She takes one step closer. Close enough for him to get a whiff of her perfume. It sends all those memories crashing down on him, both good and bad. 

His guts clench and he shoves his hands in his jeans’ pockets, balled into fists. “Why didn’t you call?”

Her eyes are warm and so full of affection that he can hardly bear to hold her gaze. Even if he’d hoped for it, that if they ever meet again, that she would still look at him like that, it still hurts. Because in the end, it’s this, this glance, that made him fall in love with her. “I didn't know if you wanted it. You didn't call either... in all that time.”

The beast inside his chest bursts out one ferocious roar. “Yeah,” Jon grits through his teeth, “because you left _me_.”

He sees the moment her confidence slips. The way her lip trembles as she crosses the last bit of space between them. At first unsure if she’s allowed to, but brave enough to try. Dany strokes the fabric of his shirt, both of them well aware of how often it has covered her own skin. The second her hands are on him, one on his arm, the other on his chest, he knows he can't hold it together much longer. 

Because _gods_ , how much he’s missed her. How much he still misses her now even though she’s standing right in front of him. Jon’s torn between wanting to scream at her, shake her, or wrapping his arms around her. To kiss her and never let go. The itch is gone, replaced by a fire, by the wild beast tearing at his insides. There is so much anger and desperation in him, and still it doesn't subside as he sees the sorrow in her eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, “I know I made a mistake. I knew it as soon as I was out the door. But I was scared, so scared. Please believe me when I say how much I regret it.”

He does believe her. And it should tame his anger, should calm him down. Though that, it does not. “Don’t do this.” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them. He closes his eyes to avoid her look of rejection.

“Jon, please.”

“ _I_ can’t do this again.”

It’s like he’d slapped her. “Is that all you have to say?”

He takes one step back and Dany drops her arms. “It doesn't matter what else I have to say. How do I know this won't happen again? How can I trust you?” 

She must see that he’s not resolute in his decision. It shows in so many things, the strain in his voice, his whole body language that actually says he’d rather move back closer than further away from her.

“You can… I’m sorry. I… I’ll make up for it, I promise.” Her own voice is thin, husky from the knot in her throat she seems to fight to keep in check. “I love you.”

And just like that she breaks his heart all over again. For his next words are no more than a breath. “It’s not enough.”

Tears are forming in her eyes, but she hastily wipes them away, her gaze still fixed on him. And everything in him demands to make it stop. Because it hurts him so much, knowing that he's the one hurting _her_ like this. But he has to do it... to protect himself. 

“I'm sorry Dany,” he sighs, “but I can't do it again. I can't take it if you were to leave me again.” 

"I won't."

"You don't know that."

“I do!”

“But _I_ don’t.”

She stares at him for a few more seconds before she nods, accepting her defeat. Then she lifts her chin. “It's a bit ironic, don't you think? That still you're asking me to do just that... to leave, I mean.”

He can't say anything about it. All his strength is used to keep him from moving, from pouncing on her and taking her back; from touching her as he so desperately desired in all their time apart. Because he loves her too, still does, of course he does. But it still fucking hurts. That pain blocks everything else. 

She seems to see that. “I guess that's goodbye then,” Dany says as she turns at the door. “Farewell, Jon Snow.”

He is thrown back to that moment when she said something similar the first time they met, not sad but smiling. But despite all doubt, despite all protest in his body, his mind, he still lets her leave. Lets her walk out the door without any reply of his own.

As soon as she's gone, he slumps against the counter and buries his face in his hands. It's hard to focus only on his breathing. It's even harder to ignore the voice telling him what a fool he'd been. But he had to do it, didn’t he? To avoid more pain, to avoid getting hurt again.

He strips off the shirt and throws it across the room in frustration. Looks at it lying there crumpled on the floor like all his hopes. 

The adrenaline slowly subsides and is replaced by a numbness that settles all over his body. There’s no more itching, no more boiling. The beast in his chest is slain all of a sudden. All he feels is emptiness. Exhausted and tired. He should be relieved now that the question of what if has been answered. After answering it himself, with his words, his decision. 

It only takes another glance to the door she just disappeared through, another to the shelf she was standing at the first time he met her, for this tiny voice to come back again, saying that _maybe_ he chose wrong. 

Without looking back at his office he leaves the bills and this nightmare of fabric behind, steps outside in just his t-shirt, closes the store and makes his way home. It's a strategy of avoidance, but it's the only thing left for him now. And he clings to it. Repeats in his mind that it was the right thing to do, as his feet carry him all on their own. 

After he turns the key Ghost greets him at the door and he scratches his ears a bit longer than usual. From upstairs he hears the rush of the shower and from the living room the loud blast of a machine gun.

When he enters the room, he finds Robb on the couch, one knee propped up, controller in hand. On the screen, an ugly zombie takes a well-placed headshot and drops dead. Almost like Jon as he falls down onto the cushions next to his brother. “Aren't you a little old for that?”

“One’s never too old for something they enjoy,” Robb replies without taking his eyes off the screen. “Besides, I've had a fucking shitty day. Surgery got complicated and it's not sure if the patient will survive the night. So it's this or start smoking again.”

Two more shots, two more dead zombies.

“Sorry to hear that,” Jon sighs and slumps down some more till he’s able to rest his head on the back of the couch. 

“How was your day?” Robb asks.

“Equally shitty.” 

“You wanna talk about it?”

He closes his eyes but it’s no help to ease his nerves. Her face is all he can see. And even if he’d force himself, he can't make her smile, not even with all his willpower. Like her pain is burned into his brain, her expression of hurt. “I saw Dany today... she came by the store.”

A few seconds later Jon hears the sound of the heart monitor failure, confirming that Robb’s character got killed. Without looking, he knows that his gaze is now directed at him. There’s a shift at his side and he turns his head. 

Unfortunately Robb's face doesn't tell what he’s thinking. “What did she say?”

He lets out a deep exhale. “She said that she’s sorry. That she wants to come back. That… that she still loves me.” 

Saying it out loud makes it so much more real than it has been all along. And it hits him like a high-speed train. All emotions crashing down on him as he tries his best to recall their conversation. Robb listens to everything without interrupting him, his expression still inscrutable. 

“You think I made a mistake?” Jon finishes, swallowing around the tight knot in his throat.

“Honest answer or the one that makes you feel better?”

There’s no need to reply to that. They both know what it means. And the more the silence drags on between them, the more Jon realizes he's right. It's no longer just that little bit of doubt he had when Dany was standing in front of him. No longer just the feeling of loss when she left. No longer just a tiny voice. It's loud, screaming at him. It's plain now, clear as crystal. 

He did choose wrong. 

Jon groans in frustration and buries his hands in his hair, pulling at his curls as if like that he could find a solution. “Why the fuck didn’t I tell her that I love her too?” 

Robb gifts him with a small smile of sympathy. “Because that’s what you always do Jon.” 

“Always do what?”

“Let them leave.”

_Does he?_

But thinking about it… maybe he does.

He did so back in highschool, when Val dumped him right after prom. His only reply had been a shrug even though all the voices in his head had been screaming at him to ask her why, to call her back, to do just _anything_. Anything other than just nodding and walking away. Still he'd done that and never looked back till now.

Then there’d been Ygritte. They’d really held it together for a long time, far longer than he’d expected in the beginning. But even then, when Jon had seen the signs that things would come to an end, he’d done nothing about it. So they’d drifted apart and he let her go as well. 

And now there’s Dany. The first woman who really gets him, like they’re two different sides of the same coin. She makes him do things, feel things he never thought possible. All this love he feels for her. Yet still he’d let her leave. Not once but twice. 

“Fuck, what am I gonna do now?” 

“Isn’t that obvious?” Robb straightens up as he raises his eyebrows. “You get her back, of course.”

“But I don’t even know where she is!”

His phone is handed over not a second later. “How fortunate that we both know someone who can find out things like that.”

Yet he hesitates. His hands are sweating, his mind is buzzing. And fear grabs him in a chokehold. He’d never done this before. It must be written all over his face.

“Being afraid… it's the only time a man can be brave,” Robb cites their father and nudges his shoulder.

It's the final push he needs. Holding his breath Jon dials the number. “Arya? Hi… it’s me. I need you to do me a favor.”

They have the address not even ten minutes later. She’s at a press conference at the Smoking Log… all the way on the other side of the town.

“Shit.” Jon looks at his watch. “How the fuck do I get there during rush hour?”

Robb’s scratching his beard while thinking, then he tilts his head into the hallway. “THEON?”

“What?” Comes the voice from above.

“I have to take your bike!”

A short pause, then his face appears between the banister, his hair wet, half his cheek covered in foam. “What? Why?”

“No time to explain,” Robb grins, grabs Jon’s arm and drags him along, fishing up the keys and helmet on their way out. “Emergency! Tell you later! Love you! Bye!”

He kicks the door shut with his heel and they take the short walk around the house till they’re standing in front of Theon’s Fireblade. Jon bites his lips before he looks back at his brother. “You _do_ know how to ride it, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Robb says. But in truth, he doesn't sound as sure as Jon wants him to. “It's like riding a bicycle, isn't it? You can't unlearn it.” He hands him a helmet.

“We can still call a cab?” he suggests, because at the moment he feels more nervous about sitting on this death machine than facing Dany, kneeling and begging her for forgiveness.

But Robb shakes his head. “Bullshit, who does something like this, arriving in a cab?” He swings one leg over the seat, gets into position, and then pats the leather behind him. A crooked smirk forming on his lips. “Come on Jonny, let’s go get your girl back.”

Jon rolls his eyes but does as he’s told. 

It is akin to a near-death experience, the way he navigates them through Winterfell’s streets. His fingers on Robb's hip probably leave bruises behind. At a certain point he just squints his eyes and hopes that they survive this. _It’s for Dany,_ he tells himself over and over again, louder even after they almost run over a cyclist. 

Somehow they end up in a parking lot. Without scratches, unharmed. It’s pure madness and his legs feel like jelly as he gets off, frowning at his brother. “Remind me to hit you as soon as I recover.”

He takes off the helmet, shakes out his curls and is finally able to breathe again.

Robb grins. “You’re welcome.”

Jon punches his chest.

Even though they've made it here in the shortest possible time, the next challenge is already looming ahead. “How do we get inside now?”

They throw some ideas at each other, that they could say they're security, that Jon could just try to sell his ID card as a press pass. In the end, help comes in the form of a white-haired restaurant owner, who's just in the process of lifting two large boxes of pretzels out of a van. 

“Bingo!” Robb says and points at Davos across the street. 

They give the man almost a heart attack as they suddenly emerge next to the car as soon as he closes the doors. “Seven hells lads, you trying to kill me?”

“Sorry,” they both say, rubbing their necks. 

“May we help you with this?” Jon offers, nodding at the boxes. 

But Davos shakes his head. “I may look old, but I can do this on my own.”

Jon reaches for his arm. “May we _please_ help you with this anyway?”

The man looks at them both in irritation, his eyes darting from one to the other. It doesn't take long till realization strikes. Because he's not stupid, he can put two and two together. And he knows about Dany, about their relationship, being one of the few who actually saw them together. 

“I have to get inside,” Jon pleads, biting his lip again, waiting. Hoping. 

"Come on, Davos," Robb adds, "for romance's sake."

At that a little smile appears on Davos’ face and he nods, taking mercy on him and hands Jon one of the boxes. 

“I’ll wait here,” Robb says, patting the roof of the van. “Go get her.” He balls his hand into a first, raising it in solidarity.

Jon clutches the plastic hard as he heads inside of the building. The ride has distracted him a bit, but now all his thoughts are back on what comes next. As his heartbeat accelerates, adrenaline pumping through his veins, he doesn't even know what he's going to say to her…

They go in through the back door and come right in the middle of it. The click of cameras and the hushed voices of people filling the air. He can see nothing but the backs of their heads as he places his box on one of the tables Davos shows him while he takes in his surroundings. 

The hall is filled to the brim, almost exclusively press, all of them with some fancy notepads in their hands. The chatter is a bit louder near the door, standing close to each other, so they can comment in quiet murmurs about the things being said. They all give him annoyed looks as he squeezes past them and makes his way to the front. 

Five chairs are set up on the stage, each occupied. Four actors and another person – the director – Jon suspects, who is talking and taking the next question from a reporter. It’s all just white noise. The second his eyes fall on Dany, he stops in his tracks.

_Gods, she still looks gorgeous_. Even with this false smile forced on her face. 

His hands twitch, eager to reach for her; to touch her again. His apology is on his lips, ready to be shouted over the crowd. But he's able to contain it. Embarrassing her and also himself is not the way to win her back. Though he's not sure what to do instead? His skin tingles, sweat gathers on the back of his neck. 

He ties his hair back as he thinks of a way to get her attention.

Meanwhile another hand is raised, another question asked. “This one’s for Daenerys… the last time you were at Winterfell, there were some fairly graphic photographs taken of you with a guy from the city here. So, we're wondering what happened there?”

Petrified, he stares at her as he expects to be outed as an asshole in front of the whole town. He hopes she won't, even if he deserves it. Biting his cheek as he waits for her answer.

But instead of giving it right away, she swallows and starts to fiddle with her nails. It's a sight that intensifies his longing for her even more, knowing he can still read her like this, like an open book; that he knows every feeling behind every gesture. That he knows what it means when she looks down before she speaks. “He was just a friend. We’re still friends… I guess.”

Jon raises his hand before he can even think better about it.

“Yeah, you. Gentleman in the grey shirt,” the director says. At first, he doesn't realize that he’s been picked. 

His brain shuts down as their eyes finally meet. As he takes in her irritation, her worry and anger, which mirror his fear, while his heart beats as fast as if he'd run a marathon. Only when he looks closer, he sees something shimmering behind her dominant emotions. Perhaps it is hope. Though whatever it is, he clings to it as he opens his mouth. 

“I… um…” Jon clears his throat and rubs his sweaty palms over his dark jeans. “Miss Targaryen, could it be that… that the two of you might be more than just good friends?”

Her violet eyes burn through him and Jon’s nerves are raw while he tries to hold her gaze. “I hoped we were,” she says. It hits him hard that she’s letting her walls down like this in front of all these people; that she’s letting the same sorrow from a few hours ago back in his shop shine through. “But no, I was recently assured that we aren’t.”

“What if he–” he blurts out but gets interrupted by the director.

“I’m sorry. Just one question per person.”

“No!” Dany gets in, a bit too harshly. “I mean, it’s okay. I guess?” She turns back at Jon. “You were saying?”

He takes a deep breath. “I was just wondering if that person–”

“His name is Snow!” someone yells from the back, “Jon Snow.”

“Right,” Jon clicks his tongue and there he sees a small smile flitting across Dany’s face. It’s tiny, but it’s there and it makes his heart do a tumble in his tight chest. It gives him courage to go on. “So… what if this Mr. Snow realized a bit too late… that he’d been a complete asshole?”

Her eyebrows reach her hairline as the people around them start to snicker. But for Jon, there’s no turning back now.

“What if he were to tell you that he acted like a real prick, but that he was hurt and scared, and spoke without thinking?” He swallows hard. “What if he were to tell you he's sorry, that he didn't mean it like that... What if now it’s _him_ the one begging _you_ to stay? What… what would you say?” 

The giggles stop abruptly. Now the whole room is holding its breath, like right before the jump. Waiting for her answer, all eyes directed at the stage. He’s begging her with his eyes as well, as best as he can, though her face remains unreadable.

Then her mouth twitches as it forms one word, _‘Forever?’_

_Fuck, yes._

Jon lets the air out of his lungs with what might be a chuckle. As he nods; she smiles. Then her smile turns so big that it splits her face in half. She’s beaming at him, and he knows he's throwing the same expression right back at her. There is no question of preventing it as love floods through his body and envelopes each of his senses; warm and fulfilling. Pure bliss, pure happiness. And such a relief. So much of it.

Because it's not too late.

The press around them is quicker to understand what has happened. The cameras click and flashes rain over them like a thousand twinkling stars. It should annoy him, but it doesn't. In fact he cannot pay less attention to any of them. 

All he sees is her. 

Dany stands up slowly, pushes the chair back and walks around the lectern. As soon as she reaches the small staircase, he’s able to react as well. No one stands in his way, everyone makes room, even the security. He’s much faster in his movements than she is, almost frantic. But as soon as she sees him, she starts to hurry. And then they meet right in front of the stage. 

No second of hesitation, no spark of doubt. She jumps and he lifts her up in his arms, crashing their mouths together with a matching desperation. A few people cheer around them, but he doesn't catch it. Her warm lips and her hand on his shoulder is all he can be focused on.

This is what home feels like. This is where they both belong.

Jon strokes her hair back and pulls her even closer, tightens his grip in her strands. But she doesn't seem to mind. Instead he feels the smile spreading across her face as she deepens the kiss. Like she wants to make up for all the kisses they missed. And he wants that too. Wants to hold her like this for the rest of his life. 

"Forever," she breathes. 

This time he knows she means it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!! 💖

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, I'm happy if you let me know by leaving a comment and/or kudos! :)


End file.
